How sweet at early morning's rise,
To view the glories of the skies,
And mark with curious eye, the sun
Prepare his radiant course to run!
Its fairest form then nature wears,
And clad in brightest green appears.
The sprightly lark, with artless lay,
Proclaims the entrance of the day.

2. How sweet to breathe the gale's perfume',
And feast the eye with nature's bloom!
Ålong' the dewy lawn to rove,

And hear the musick of the grove!
Nor you, ye delicate and fair,
Neglect to taste the morning air;
This will your nerves with vigour brace,
Improve and heighten every grace;
Add to your breath a rich pĕr-fūme';
And to your cheeks a fairer bloom:
With lustre teach your eyes to glow,
And health and cheerfulness bestow.

SECTION VI.

The drowning Fly.

1. In yonder glass, behold a drowning Fly! Its little feet, how vainly does it ply!

ARM'STRONG.

Poor helpless insect! and will no one save?
Will no one snatch thee from the threat'ning grave?
My finger's top shall prove a friendly shore,
There, trembler, all thy dangers now àre o'er;
Wipe thy wet wings, and banish all thy fear:
Go, join thy num'rous kindred in the air.
Away it flies; resumes its harmless play;
And lightly gambols in the golden ray.
2. Smile not, spectators, at this hum'ble deed:
For you, perhǎps', a nobler tǎsk's decreed:
A young and sinking family to save;

To raise the thoughtless from destruction's wave!
To you, for help, the wretched lift their eyes:
O! hear, for pity's sake, their plaintive cries;
Ere* long, unless some guardian interpose,
O'er their devoted heads, the floods may close.

SECTION VII

To a Redbreast.

LITTLE bird, with bo'sóm red,
Welcome to my hum'ble shed!
Daily near my table steal,
While I pick my scanty meal.
Doubt not, little though there be,
But I'll căst a crumb to thee:
Well rewarded, if I spy

Pleasure in thy glan'cing eye;
See thee, when thou'st eat thy fill,
Plume thy breast, and wipe thy bill.
Come, my feather'd friend, again !*
Well thou know'st the broken pane!
Ask of me thy daily store;
Ever welcome to my door.

SECTION VIII.

To a child five years old.

1. FAIREST flower, all flowers excelling,
Which in Mil'ton's page we see:
Flowers of Eve's embower'd dwelling,
Are, my fair one, types of thee.

2 Mark, my Polly, how the roses
Emulate thy damask cheek;
How the bud its sweets discloses-
Buds thy op'ning bloom bespeak.
3. Lilies are by plain direc'tión

Emblems of a double kind;
Emblems of thy fair complexion,
Emblems of thy fairer mind.

4. But, dear girl,† both flowers and beauty
Blossom, fade, and die ǎway:
Then pursue good sense and duty,
Evergreens, which ne'er‡ decay.

SECTION IX.

The Rose.

1. How fair is the rose! what a beautiful flow'r!

In summer so fragrant and gay!

But the leaves àre beginning to fade in an hour,
And they wither and die in a dav.

*ă-gen'

ger?

Inire.

2. Yet the rose has one pow'rful vir'tue to boast,
Above all the flowers of the field:

When its leaves àre all dead, and fine colours lost,
Still how sweet a pĕr-füme' it will yield!

3. So frail is the youth and beauty of men,

Though they bloom and look gay like the rose; For all our fond care to preserve' them is vain; Time kills them as fast as he goes.

4. Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty,
Since both of them wither and fade;

But gain a good name by performing my duty:
This will scent like a rose, when I'm dead.

WATTS.

SECTION X.

The Ant.

1. THESE emmets, how little they are in our eyes! We tread them to dust, and a troop of them dies, Without our regard or concern':

Yet as wise as we are, if we went to their school,
There's many a sluggard, and many a fool,

Some lessons of wisdom might learn.

2. They don't wear their time out in sleeping or play, But gather up corn in a sun-shiny day,

And for winter they lay up their stores: They manage their work in such regular forms, One would think they foresaw all the frosts and the storms, And so brought their food within doors.

3. But I have less sense than a poor creeping ånt,
If I take not due care for the things I shall wânt,
Nor provide against dangers in time.

When death or old age shall stare in my face,
What a wretch shall I be in the end of my days,
If I trifle away all their prime!

4. Now, now, while my strength and my youth àre in bloom, Let me think what will serve me when sickness shall come, And pray that my sins be forgiv'n :

Let me read in good books, and believe and obey,
That, when death turns me out of this cottage of clay,

I

may dwell in a palace in heav'n.

WATTS.

SECTION XI.

A morning Hymnn.

1. My God, who makes the sun to know
His proper hour to rise,
And to give light to all below,
Dóeş send him round the skies.*

2. When from the chambers of the east
His morning race begins,

He never tires, nor stops to rest;
But round the world he shines.
3. So, like the sun, would I fulfil
The bus'ness of the day:
Begin my work betimes, and still
March on my heav'nly way.

4. Give me, O Lord, thy early grace,
Nor let my soul complain,
That the young morning of my days
Has all been spent in vain.

SECTION XII.

An evening Hymn.

1. AND now another day is gone,

I'll sing my Maker's praise:
My cóm'forts ev'ry hour make known
His providence and grace.

2. But how my childhood runs to waste!
My sins, how great their sum!
Lord! give me pardon for the păst,
And strength for days to come.

3. I lay my body down to sleep;
Let angels guard my head,

And through the hours of darkness keep
Their watch around' my bed.

4. With cheerful heàrt I close my eyes,
Since God will not remove;

And in the morning let me rise,
Rejoicing in his love.

*skers.

SECTION XIII.

The winter's day.

1. WHEN raging storms deform the air,
And clouds of snow descend;

And the wide landscape, bright and fair,
No deepen'd colours blend;

2. When biting frost rides on the wind,
Bleak from the north and east,
And wealth is at its ease reclin❜d,
Prepar'd to laugh and feast;

3. When the poor trav❜ller treads the plain, All dubious of his way,

And crawls with night increasing pain,
And dreads the parting day;

4. When poverty in vile attire,

Shrinks from the biting blăst,
Or hovers o'er the pigmy fire,
And fears it will not last;

5. When the fond mother hugs her child
Still closer to her breast;
And the poor infant frost-beguil❜d,
Scarce feels that it is prest;

6. Then let your bounteous hand extend
Its blessings to the poor;

Nor spurn the wretched, while they bend
All suppliant at your door.

SECTION XIV.

Compassion and forgiveness.

1. I HEAR the voice of wo;

A brother mortal mourns:

My eyes with tears, for tears o'erflow;

My heart his sighs returns.

2. I hear the thirsty cry;

The famish'd beg for bread:
O let my spring its streams supply;
My hand its bounty shed.—

3. And shall not wrath relent,

Touch'd by that hŭm'ble strain,
My brother crying, "I repent,
Nor will offend ǎgain' !"